


Knock On Wood

by Zyphlid



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, M/M, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 03:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6036886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zyphlid/pseuds/Zyphlid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you want me to say?” He asked. “I can't make myself live forever.”</p><p>Hancock sighed harshly before pushing himself away from his partner and turning his back on him.</p><p>“Hancock?” Jack leaned up on one elbow, his free hand coming to rest on the ghoul's waist. “Hancock! Look...I mean, do you want me to apologize?”</p><p>“You're tellin’ the truth.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knock On Wood

“Jack? Hey, sunshine, you up?”

The NCR Heavy, in fact, was hunkered into a state of semi-consciousness and a deep sleep, but the very faint calling and shakes to his shoulders that got rougher with each unsuccessful attempt to wake him eventually won over. Jack made a low, curious sound in response to Hancock’s determined method of raising him, but did not open his eyes nor roll from his back to his side to face the ghoul. He felt the small hand clutched at the strap to his tank top somewhat relax at the noise.

“Jack…?” Hancock shifted, moving himself closer to his partner. “Are you okay?”

_Are you okay?_

That certainly depended on a wide variety of variables that could only be narrowed by a game of twenty questions. Was it directed towards his physical health? Mental? Emotional? Would it be considering if he was well enough to make it another day or a very general curiosity? Was he sick? How so? Was he upset? What was the cause? Jack had a heavy handed tendency to overthink questions that were nothing more than “yes or no” before scumming to the socially acceptable answers. Growing up not only in the military, but in a large family pushed that burdensome mindset on a developing individual.

However, the Heavy knew where Hancock’s question stemmed. It was exactly two weeks before his 48th birthday. That time last year, such late night inquiries were expected and the year before that is when they had started. By the current third year, it had dissolved into an annual event.

Jack exhaled softly before slowly opening his eyes, despite the heaviness weighing on the lids. He turned his head and locked eyes with the ghoul, whose brow was furrowed as far as he could tell (age and night vision did not go hand and hand).

“I’m alive,” Jack murmured. “And I plan to stay that way for another fifty years.” The hand at his shirt regained its strength and there was a tug in his partner’s direction.

“It’s not a fuckin’ joke, Jack,” Hancock said, the agitation in his tone an honest surprise to the Heavy. He blinked rapidly a few times and reached up to rest a hand on the one practically attached to him.

“I wasn't…?” Jack’s mouth made a couple of attempts at forming a sentence as he thought of a response before continuing. “Hancock, sweetheart, I wasn’t trying to mock you.” A silence followed. One that mixed not only the mildly electric air between them, but the concern of one partner and the offense of the other. Perhaps, or even clearly, the Heavy underestimated the hardiness of the ghoul’s current emotions. To which, the blame was entirely on him.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, giving a squeeze to the hand beneath his own. “Honestly, I am.” Another, albeit shorter, pause. “Was it the funeral dream again?”

During the day, it was incredibly difficult for Jack to see what little was left of ghoul’s pupils shift around. At night, it was entirely impossible, even by those with eyes far younger than his own. Yet, the Heavy had the feeling that was exactly what they were doing before the quiet, nearly inaudible reply was made:

“Yes.”

Jack opened his mouth, his reply scripted with minor differences as their years together stretched, but Hancock interrupted before a word could be said.

“And yes, I know you’re not dyin’ anytime soon, Jack,” the ghoul replied, a hint of hostility remaining. “So long as you keep yourself in check. But that isn’t stoppin’ you from bein’ dead after those fifty years you think you got.”

Jack remained quiet. Telling the truth would force him to admit that, really, fifty years was exaggeration. Majority of the men in his family never pushed beyond the mid 80s and 90s were incredibly rare. He only knew of his mother’s father making it to the exact number and he died a week later. However, Jack had used fifty the first time they had the conversation regarding how much time he had left and that alone upset the ghoul. Forty would damn near break his heart.

The Heavy gave a weak shrug.

“What do you want me to say?” He asked. “I can’t make myself live forever.”

Hancock sighed harshly before pushing himself away from his partner and turning his back on him.

“Hancock?” Jack leaned up on one elbow, his free hand coming to rest on the ghoul’s waist. “Hancock! Look…I mean, do you want me to apologize?”

“You’re tellin’ the truth.”

The reply sounded broken and that it in turn caused the Heavy’s chest to constrict painfully. There were only a few other times, enough that in the three years that he had know the ghoul, all could be counted on one hand, that Jack has heard such a defeated tone in his voice. He always found some way to hide it otherwise.

Reaching down, Jack looped his arm around Hancock’s stomach and pulled him close, pressing his entire back against his torso. He then laid back down, gently placing a kiss on top of his partner’s head.

“I wish I could lie, Hancock,” Jack said softly. “I wish I could jinx myself in saying that I’ll be here as long as you will.”

There was a bitter laugh.

“The one thing I had no plans of runnin’ out on is runnin’ out on me,” Hancock muttered. “The wasteland has no bounds on her cruelty, does she?”

Jack did not respond, unsure as to how given there was none to be had that could ease a definite fact. The Heavy was all too familiar with such bad luck and death was certainly no stranger to it. He suffered more emotional punches than physical ones and he much preferred the latter. At least they healed and could be forgotten.

Tugging against his waist once more, Jack prompted the ghoul to roll over and face him. His arms became pinned against the Heavy’s chest and could not protest an escape as kisses were peppered over Hancock’s brow.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Jack said once he was through with his onslaught. “And something will happen that’ll take us out together.” Hancock gave off an airy chuckle; humored just enough to allow himself to feel it.

“A super mutant surprisin’ us with a mini nuke feels pretty damn appropriate,” the ghoul replied. The Heavy laughed, a full belly one that caused his partner to smile as it rocked against him.

“Honestly, now I’ll be disappointed if that isn’t how it happens,” Jack said before another short silence followed. It was comfortable, however, the air lifting just enough to allow them to breathe. Briefly, the Heavy took his hand off his partner’s waist to tuck a wild curl from his patchy blond hairs back. It was incredibly stubborn about it, though, and kept falling back in front of Hancock’s face.

“I love you,” Jack said, after deeming the lock unable to be mended and returning his hand to the ghoul’s hip. Hancock leaned his head up, throwing the curl back in the process where it remained, and gave the Heavy a peck under his chin.

“How much?” Hancock asked and Jack grinned.

“I promise to find a way to keep us together,” he replied. “For as long as you need me.” The ghoul stared at him for such a long time that Jack was curious if he had said the wrong thing. However, Hancock soon cracked a small smile, one infused with an emotion the Heavy could not see in the dark, before pressing himself under his partner’s head once more.

“I’ll hold ya to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> The question of "how much" is something I've made up between the two where they aren't actually doubting each other, but simply expressing their love with more than just a "I love you too".
> 
> (also, to put a possibly bittersweet footnote on this, Jack ends up becoming a ghoul exactly a year later)


End file.
